


A Coast That's Unclear

by flowersandteeth



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Civil War Team Iron Man, Daddy Kink, Dom!Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Infidelity, M/M, Multi, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Peter Parker Feels, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Peter Parker, Rimming, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Stark Has A Heart, but not between tony and peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 13:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersandteeth/pseuds/flowersandteeth
Summary: Four days after the scandal breaks, Tony Stark and Peter Parker show up on his doorstep.[[ON HIATUS/doing some serious editing]]





	1. Just Typhoons and Monsoons (Intro)

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER:
> 
> The 'Underage' warning is for a brief scene while Peter is 17, which is the legal age in NY. The rest of the explicit action happens after Peter is 18.  
It is going to get explicit. There is Daddy kink. Heed the tags, please.  
I understand that this is a squicky pairing, and as such is not for everyone. But this is a work of fiction, and not a relationship I would endorse or condone in reality.  
If you have an issue with it, _don't read this fic_. Don't bother with ship-shaming, I will delete your comments.
> 
> If y'all are good with this, keep going, and I hope you enjoy <3

Peter has always been ahead of his age group.

He's intelligent, gifted at science in general, but especially robotics.

At 14, his first year at Midtown High, he's awarded entry into an elite junior robotics club, sponsored by Tony Stark.

In his sophomore year, Mr. Stark offers Peter a spot in the high school internship program onsite at Stark Industries.

*

The February after he turns 15, a couple months after he starts working directly with Tony at the internship, Peter's aunt and uncle die in a carjacking incident while waiting to pick Peter up.

*

There's no other family to take Peter.

Tony can't let him end up in foster care.

He hands the company over to Pepper and becomes Peter's legal guardian.

*

Tony's not good at feelings.

Peter is a depressed teenager (not good at feelings but has a lot of them).

Peter's depression drives a wedge between the two for a few months.

*

They fall into a pattern of nagging at each other's bad habits (they basically eat and sleep in quantities/frequencies in complete opposite of each other).

Their mutual concern leads to them dragging each other in towards a healthy middle.

(They compromise:

"I'll only sleep for 8 hours if you actually get 8 hours of sleep, you ass", etc)

They spend most of their time together, and halfway through Peter's 16th year, the kid's looking healthier and smiling more.

*

Peter goes to school and hangs out with his friends.

He swims in Tony's pool and works out in Tony's gym a couple days a week.

He still affectionately nags Tony about his habits.

They joke around with each other and share almost every meal.

*

They watch movies on the penthouse couch.

Sometimes, they fall asleep together.

*

Most of the time, it's Peter who falls asleep on Tony (head on the man's shoulder at first, and then on his lap, and eventually stretched out on top of him, head on his chest).

Sometimes, after an inventing binge or a rough conversation with Howard and Maria, it's Tony who falls asleep on Peter.

Six months before Peter turns 17, he asks Tony to spoon him, and Tony refuses.

It could be so easily transformed into something sexual, and Tony doesn't want to put Peter or himself in a bad position.

Tony's worried he might feel the urge to push Peter into something he's not ready for, or that Peter might agree to something because he feels obligated or driven by hormones.

Peter just wants Tony wrapped around him, because Peter's a teenage boy with a giant crush on his older, very hot guardian.

They argue about it for the three months leading up to Peter's seventeenth birthday.

*

Three weeks before homecoming, a month before his birthday, Peter practically begs Tony, says he's fine, he's ready, he wants Tony closer...

...and Tony firmly disagrees.

They fight, and--feeling hurt and embarrassed by the rejection--Peter pulls away.

*

For a couple of days, they barely speak.

Peter starts asking to stay out after school.

He tells Tony he's hanging out with some friends.

Tony doesn't question it.

He trusts Peter, and...

...and he hopes that maybe Peter will give up the crush on his own, so Tony doesn't have to end it himself.

*

Two weeks before the dance, Peter asks if Tony will loan him money for his and his date's homecoming tickets.

_His date._

_His date._

_His date._

Tony loans the money immediately and without question, shoving the mourning to the back of his mind.

He labels it 'inappropriate', where it is kept company by his fantasies of spooning with Peter.

*

The night of homecoming, Peter tries to kiss Tony.

Tony stops him.

Peter, hurt and rejected and angry, yells at him:

"If I can't do it with the person I love, what does it matter?

I might as well just sleep with whoever, right?

Maybe if I fuck around, I'll be experienced enough for you!"

*

Peter goes to the dance.

Tony panics.

Peter loves him.

Peter might go fuck strangers.

Fuck.

Tony's stuck between staying home and letting the chips fall...

...and driving to the school to bring Peter back to the penthouse and Tony's massive bed.

*

His biggest fear of being with Peter is that he would take Peter's life away.

Peter wouldn't get those first messy fumbles in back seats and under bleachers, with people just as nervous and unskilled as he is.

He wouldn't get to experience those awkward learning moments and memorable dating milestones that Tony had always heard were so important to Growing Up.

Tony didn't get those things.

He had the brains, but for love, he had Howard and Maria Stark: rich and powerful and distant.

He had MIT at 16, and older people who were attracted to him, but didn't give a single real fuck about him or his mental health.

Peter...

Peter is miles ahead of his peers, intellectually.

But he got to have Aunt May and Uncle Ben.

Peter was loved, treated with respect and caring.

He was raised so well that when he went through intense loss, he was able to come out the other side while helping Tony crawl out of his own hole.

He's snarky and intelligent and brave.

Peter was--is--amazing, and Tony loves him.

Tony loves Peter.

God help him, but he does.

*

Tony doesn't go to the school.

He falls asleep on the couch, watching a movie.

He imagines how it would feel to have Peter's back pressed against his chest.

*

Close to midnight, Tony wakes up, comes online as his arm is lifted and Peter curls up into his side, still wearing the suit he wore to the dance.

"Hey, kid," Tony whispers into the dark.

Peter clings tighter, his fingers twisting into Tony's shirt.

Tony wraps his arms around the teen, presses a long kiss to the top of Peter's head.

"I'm so sorry, Pete."

The kid cries into Tony's shirt, and Tony lets him; lets Peter sob himself hoarse and pass out on Tony's chest, Tony rubbing the boy's back and whispering apologies and sweet nothings in a midnight gravel voice.

*

The next morning, Peter wakes up first, showers and brushes his teeth.

Tony wakes up to the sound of water running and the scent of Peter's apple shampoo filling up the suite.

When Tony's done showering, he finds a fresh pot of coffee and Peter at the kitchen island, drinking tea.

It's 10:30 a.m. on a beautiful morning.

They kiss for the first time.

Tony makes breakfast.

*

A month later, Pepper tells Tony that a man lost his arm at a Stark Industries construction site in New York City, because of another laborer who was drunk on site.

Tony tells Pepper to take care of any and all expenses related to the loss, and requests the man's medical history and physical stats.

He asks that she set up consultations with leading experts in prosthetic technology.

A week later, Tony begins the biggest project he's taken on in a long time.

He's going to make James Buchanan Barnes a new arm.

*

Peter gives him room.

He supports Tony in any way he can, even if it's just to make Tony take breaks or sit down for a meal during long work binges.

Tony falls a little more in love with him.

*

Tony may be miles ahead, but Peter is a _trip._

Peter's enthusiasm is infectious, his curiosity a force to be reckoned with; he keeps Tony on his toes.

Physically, they take it glacially slow. Tony does his best to make sure Peter knows it's not rejection, but out of concern and care.

*

One of their most difficult conversations is the acknowledgement of Tony's lingering discomfort about the age difference, and his guilt that it hasn't stopped him from getting so close to Peter.

Peter does his best to respect the lines Tony draws in the sand for those first few months.

(But Peter is seventeen and constantly on...

...and Tony's not a saint.

There are many nights where Peter lays back between Tony's legs, his back to Tony's chest and his hand gripping his own cock, Tony doing nothing but trailing fingers up and down Peter's bare thighs, whispering encouragement and compliments and instructions into Peter's ear until he makes himself cum.

With intelligence, curiosity, and a loving partner, comes the beginning of kink exploration.)

*

On Peter's graduation night, he comes home early from the class party, and he and Tony make love for the first time.

Tony's careful, and Peter's happy (so happy), and their nerves are wiped away with quiet laughter and kisses and whispered words of love.

It's perfect.

*

A week later, the first ever StarkTech prosthetic arm is completed.

The pair celebrates with dinner in the penthouse.

They've only half-finished their food when Tony spreads Peter out on the dining room table.

*

Six months later, two months after Peter calls Tony "Daddy" in bed for the first time, and two weeks after Peter's 18th birthday, a Stark Industry employee leaks a photo to the press:

It's a grainy--but clear enough--shot of Tony pulling Peter into a chaste kiss in one of the labs.

Tony and Peter are in Seattle when the news breaks.

*

Two days later--after hours and hours of debriefing, legal counsel, and prep--Tony and Peter attend a small press conference in Seattle.

They tell select members of the news media that Tony Stark is in a romantic relationship with Peter Parker, the 18 year old that had been the 15 year old of whom Tony had legal guardianship.

They leave the conference to climb into a waiting car and take off towards the coast.

The media explodes.

*

They take turns driving down the scenic western coastline.

Their notoriety forces them to only stop in secluded areas and virtually unknown towns to avoid paparazzi.

It makes for a much more interesting road trip.

*

Four days after the scandal goes live, Peter and Tony pull up to their destination, the address for which Pepper Potts had provided:

A little AirBnB in northern California, in a town called Harvest Moon.

***

Bucky gets engaged to Steve because he doesn't know what else to do.

*

In childhood, they're inseparable, running around like hooligans, Steve getting into fights and Bucky getting him out.

Bucky adores the scrappy kid, admires Steve's conviction and bravery in the face of insane odds.

*

When they reach their formative teenage years, Bucky easily acknowledges his crush on his best friend.

(It's much easier than acknowledging how often he still has to clean up a lot of Steve's messes.)

They start dating at the end of senior year, the day after prom.

It's sealed by an emotional argument that leads to a confession of feelings and awkward, intense sex in the back seat of Steve's beat up Ford.

*

Steve isn't out, but Bucky's patient; endlessly so.

Steve doesn't tell his family about his and Bucky's relationship.

Bucky's just happy he's with the punk he's been following his whole life.

*

A year and a half later, Steve cheats on Bucky with Peggy Carter.

Bucky watches Steve smile as he kisses someone else in front of the movie theater downtown.

Bucky is 19.

*

Steve moves to California for a degree in art and web design.

Bucky stays in New York, splitting his time between construction and helping run his ma's diner.

*

Two years later, Steve starts writing him letters; one a month.

Six months after that, Bucky starts writing back.

Steve apologizes.

Bucky forgives him.

*

For nine years, Bucky lives.

He works, becomes closer to his family--blood and construction crew.

He's the best man at a couple weddings, and he dates around--guys and gals, nothing lasting longer than six months.

*

Steve writes him every month, like clockwork, and visits New York every so often.

The visits all end the same way:

with a plea for Bucky to move to California that Bucky always declines.

*

The crew Bucky's contracted with gets hired to work on a Stark Industries project.

One of the members is newer, a cousin of one of the lifers.

They give him a chance because...family.

They don't know about the guy's drinking problem.

*

The guy doesn't think they'll notice if he nips at a flask onsite, or if he slips off to his car to take swigs out of a bottle.

Unfortunately, he's correct

Bucky's nearby when the drunk worker stumbles into a badly-supported beam, and part of the structure comes down.

*

>

The alcoholic ends his day in the drunk tank, with a court date pending, and no job.

Bucky ends his in the hospital, without his left arm.

*

Stark Industries agrees to pay all of Bucky's medical bills and any other expenses incurred relating to the loss of his arm.

Bucky quits construction.

*

Steve comes to New York, stays until doctors declare Bucky ready to leave the hospital.

Again, he asks Bucky to move to California, and slips a ring on Bucky's right ring finger.

Bucky says yes, as long as they can wait a bit to say 'I do'.

*

Six months later, at his and Steve's little two story in the middle of nowhere, he opens the front door to see the CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts.

She's professional and warm, and the most efficient person Bucky's ever met.

Pepper tells him that Mr. Stark has finally approved a design for a StarkTech prosthetic, an arm that will function as well as--or better than--his original, and at no cost to Bucky, including the surgery to link the arm directly to Bucky's nervous system.

She passes along apologies from Tony Stark himself, for both the accident and the length of time it took him to reach out to Bucky with this incomparable gift.

*

Bucky signs the NDA, but he isn't asked to sign a waiver of liability.

When he asks, Ms. Potts smiles the smile of an overworked assistant to an eccentric genius billionaire.

*

A month later, a group of Stark Industries appointed surgeons and scientists, the best in the world, stands around him as he is put under anesthesia.

Bucky wakes up groggy, and with a new arm.

The arm works like a _dream_.

*

Post-surgical observation lasts two weeks.

On the last day, he signs the discharge forms and Ms. Potts offers congratulations, from herself and Mr. Stark.

She hugs Bucky.

Bucky goes home.

*

Steve seems like he's trying to be supportive.

He says he's happy for Bucky, but he tells him he's worried that Bucky will want to go back to New York, back into construction.

Bucky assures him that construction is not a part of his life anymore, and he wouldn't just end the engagement because he's got his arm back.

They argue.

Steve is upset at the thought of Bucky leaving him.

He's angry that Bucky isn't asking for more from Stark Industries, while simultaneously being pissed that Stark Industries has something to hang over Bucky's head.

(Bucky decides not to tell Steve about the omitted liability waiver.)

*

Bucky realizes that part of his own anger is coming from guilt.

Even though he hadn't lied about being done with construction...

...he had thought about leaving.

*

He stays.

He shares Steve's bed, and takes care of the things that Steve doesn't:

fixing things, housework, cooking.

When Steve says he wants to offer their guest room up for rent or as an AirBnB listing, Bucky takes that up, too.

He doesn't mind the work; it reminds him a little of helping out at the diner.

The routine gives him something to wake up for, something to take pride in.

*

Steve may have suggested it, but the AirBnB project is Bucky's baby.

They're not insanely busy; they give the space out for a maximum of three nights, and Bucky vets the potential guests so they don't get any questionable people under their roof.

They mostly have one or two-night stays, and only once a week, but it more than supplements Steve's income, enough that Bucky doesn't have to get outside work.

Bucky lets the work fulfill him and distract him from his empty relationship with Steve.

*

Five months after Bucky comes home from surgery, Steve rants as Bucky holds Steve's laptop.

The article on the screen details Stark Industries' latest and greatest scandal:

The owner of Stark Industries has been sleeping with his adopted teenage son.

There are articles everywhere, examining every possible angle.

Bucky reads only from the reputable sources.

He's relieved to read that Peter is 18 years old.

*

He sees the picture that was leaked--a sneak shot of a gentle, smiling kiss--and the photo taken during the press conference where the pair had publicly announced the relationship.

They look nice together.

Steve rants.

Bucky wonders if Peter Parker is okay.

*

Bucky considers reaching out to Pepper Potts, but in the end, he doesn't need to.

Three days after the relationship goes public, Ms. Potts calls Bucky to tell him that Tony and Peter are on their way, and offers to pay for at least a month-long stay.

After the call, Bucky gets on the AirBnB listing and books out the month under his sister's name.

*

Four days after the scandal breaks, Tony Stark and Peter Parker show up on his doorstep.


	2. A Beachfront of Bad Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I brought it back from the grave after a couple of you asked about it. I'm sorry I took it down, but it won't disappear again, I promise <3

Steve's pissed.

He's frozen in the doorway, white-knuckling the strap of his laptop bag and staring into the dining room at what has to be a strange tableau; Bucky standing with his prosthetic extended, Peter Parker on one side of the arm, holding it and staring up with a deer-in-headlights expression from where he's been studying the metallic plating, and Tony Stark on the other, looking less startled, but slightly wary.

"Hey, Buck...what's going on?" Steve asks slowly. His voice is even, but tense.

Silently and profusely thanking whatever's out there that Steve's too polite to just launch himself at Stark, Bucky clears his throat and drops his arm.

"Peter, Mr. Stark, this is Steve. Steve, they're our tenants; got the room for the month." He doesn't bother with much more of an introduction because it's pretty obvious Steve recognizes the pair.

As Steve's jaw tightens and his eyes go stormy, Bucky steps forward and then turns back to face his guests, pastes on an easy smile.

"The room's upstairs, first door on the right--there's a sign hanging, can't miss it. Get settled in; if you need anything, I'll be down here."

Stark looks like he's going to say something, but Peter nudges him sharply before giving Bucky a shy smile.

"Thanks, Mr. Barnes," the teen says, and then both guests grab their bags and disappear up the stairs. Bucky watches them leave, nerves sparking in his gut.

Steve brushes past Bucky to the arch beside the stairs.

"Kitchen. Now."

Bucky closes his eyes and runs a hand down his face before following.

*

Steve's on him soon as he walks into kitchen.

"What the hell, Buck! When were you gonna tell me you were planning on harboring Tony Stark and his kid in our house?"

"He's not a fugitive, Stevie," Bucky says. He needs something to do with his hands, a reason to not look at his fiance, so he crosses to the sink and starts washing the few dishes.

"He's running from the consequences of his actions," Steve fumes, "He's lucky I'm not reporting him to the police, or--or calling the press--"

"The kid's eighteen," Bucky says, scrubbing a little harder.

"Stark's had him since he was _fifteen_. Do you really believe nothing happened before he was legal?"

Bucky's gut twists, and he sets down the plate to face Steve.

"Stark Industries is one of the biggest companies in the _world_, Steve; you think Stark woulda had a press conference if this was about another pedophile in power? Peter'd be _buried_, not on fuckin' vacation with the guy. Stark's not hiding from what he did; they just don't wanna be eaten alive by the press--."

"You didn't even tell me!" Steve cries, throwing his hands in the air, "You didn't even give me a chance to--fuck, Bucky, that's awful." He sounds hurt, and Bucky's jaw tightens.

_Didn't give you the chance to say 'no'_. He slumps back against the counter.

"I couldn't, Stevie. I got the call, and I had to help 'em. At least--couldn't you at least be okay with this for the kid? You know he doesn't deserve any of the shit they're sayin' about him, and no one out here's gonna give 'em any grief."

Steve just stares at him. 

"You're not even sorry, are you?"

Bucky doesn't say anything. After a long, tense moment, Steve's expression hardens.

"Fine," he snaps, "I'm going to bed." He grabs his laptop and walks out, his feet thudding pointedly upstairs.

Bucky exhales, turning back to the sink. Through the window above it, he can see the sky just barely beginning to turn purple with the sunset.

He's not sorry.

Of course he knows Steve's at least partially right about Stark and the kid; Bucky's not naive enough to discount it entirely. But he likes to think he's a pretty good judge of character, and after actually meeting the two of them...he's willing to hear them out.

Especially Peter. The kid had been on Bucky the moment he and Stark stepped into the house, rushing through a greeting and then asking to look at Bucky's arm.

His expectant stare had been all big brown eyes and lightly flushed cheeks, and _god, he's pretty_ had run through Bucky's head before he could squash the thought. He'd smiled and said "Go for it", and Peter had immediately put his hands on the prosthetic, turning the arm this way and that, leaning in close to look, all the while spewing questions and exchanging all kinds of tech babble with Stark that Bucky couldn't hope to keep up with.

A minute or so in, Stark had come to stand across from Peter, watching the teen with indulgence and undeniable pride. Bucky's pulse had picked up when the billionaire had glanced at him and arched a brow--_Cool, right?_\--and Bucky had smirked in acknowledgement...

And then Steve had walked in.

Bucky knows his initial impressions don't necessarily negate the more disturbing possibilities, but...Peter's clearly confident, intelligent. And Tony hadn't come across as possessive or hovering or censoring; he'd just stood back and watched the kid go, a soft smile on his ridiculously handsome face.

Tony Stark...God. Bucky swallows.

He's seen pictures, but up close, the guy's something else.

Both of them are.

Bucky's only human. A human in a months' long dry spell--of course he's going to notice. It doesn't mean anything.

He rings the sponge out with a little more force than necessary.

*

When the sky's dark, he goes up to the bedroom.

Steve's deeply asleep, snoring softly on his side of the bed. Bucky sits down at the edge on the other side. He watches his fiance for a long moment. He can't remember the last time they went to bed together. Even just to fall asleep in each other's arms.

After a few minutes, he pulls himself up and leaves the room, closing the door softly.

_A beer. A beer sounds good._

A few feet from the stairs, he sees a sliver of gold light across the wood floor. Tony and Peter must still be awake. It's a little surprising; fresh off hours of driving, they'd both looked understandably beat when they'd showed up, despite the enthusiastic examination of Bucky's prosthetic.

He slows and tries to keep his footsteps quiet, padding across the hardwood and carefully avoiding any creaky boards. When he's about cross the thin spill of light, though, a soft noise comes through the open door, followed by a dark chuckle.

Bucky freezes.

"No, no," he can hear the smirk in Tony's voice, "you don't get to be shy now, sweetheart."

There's another sound, the sharp drag of a body over sheets, and a shocked gasp. And then slick, wet sounds that Bucky's willing to bet are from Stark's lips and tongue.

"_Tony_\--"

Oh. Oh God. He needs to walk away. Now.

"You look so gorgeous like this, baby," Tony says.

The quick, sharp smack and Peter's short cry of pained pleasure jolt Bucky, send uneasy electricity skittering through his gut. He really needs to leave, and he...really can't.

"_Please_\--"

Peter sounds _wrecked_, and suddenly all Bucky can see is the way the eighteen year old had looked up at him, the spread of pink across his cheeks, the banked excitement at the prospect of getting the chance to put his hands on Bucky--

On Bucky's _arm_. The arm.

He can still feel all the places those fingers had pressed on the metal plating.

There's the plastic pop of a cap, and then more filthy-wet sounds as Peter makes another wordless plea.

Tony speaks again.

"You looked so pretty earlier, too. Blushing for him like that. Do you want him to see you like this?"

The response is mumbled, quiet; Bucky has to strain to hear it.

"...yes."

"Yes what, baby?"

There's no immediate response, and then Peter gives an almost pained whine.

"Yes, _please_\--I--I want him to see me--"

"You're going to tell him 'thank you', baby. For letting you put your hands on him."

"Y-yes, Daddy--"

Tony hums in approval. "Good boy."

A rhythmic shifting starts, the building slap of skin on skin as Peter moans brokenly.

"You're so perfect, Peter, so good for me..."

Tony practically purrs the words, and Bucky's going to hell. He's going straight down into the pit of fire with a cock so hard it hurts, and it's with that resignation that he lets himself cast a quick glance at the gap in the door as he finally goes to walk past.

_It's fine, he's not really looking; he probably won't see anything anyway--_

\--But that's bullshit; Bucky knows the layout of the room like the back of his hand, knows exactly where the bed is positioned in relation to the doorway, and--Oh God.

Peter is laying bent over the side of the bed, facing forward in Bucky's line of sight. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is slack, his hands twisted in the blankets. Tony's upright behind him, one hand on the back of the teen's neck, the other at Peter's hip, keeping him pressed into the mattress as older man's hips roll in a sensual, controlled surge and retreat. If the billionaire were to look up, it's almost a sure thing that he'd be able to see Bucky at the door.

Bucky's pulse is pounding in his ears--_god this is so wrong shouldn't be watching this what the fuck am I doing_\--and he finally moves past, carefully making his way down the stairs.

In the kitchen, he takes a Heineken from the fridge and pops the cap with his prosthetic hand, stands at the counter and chugs half the bottle in one go.

*

Maybe an hour later, Bucky re-enters his and Steve's bedroom. He stretches out next to his fiance, leaving a broad distance between their bodies.

He's wide awake.

He can't stop thinking about the cut of Stark's hips, the hungry but loving look on his face as he stared down at his boyfriend?--lover?--and Peter, face screwed up with pleasure, clutching desperately at the comforter.

The door was shut when he came back down the hall.

Bucky drags a hand down his face, exhaling heavily.

_You're so perfect, Peter, so good for me..._

Fuck.

***

The next morning starts...poorly.

Steve's side of the bed is empty and cold when Bucky wakes up. He drags himself out of bed and through a shower before he makes his way downstairs.

He feels a wash of shame as he passes by the guest room; the door's closed, no sounds filtering through the wood.

In the dining room, there's a fresh pot of coffee on the table, an empty mug beside it. Steve's parked at the nearby table going over some paperwork, a sour expression on his face.

"Hey, Stevie," Bucky tries. His fiance looks up, sighs, and goes back to his paperwork.

Alright then. "How'd you sleep?"

"Shut it, Buck. We're still fighting."

"Good to know you've decided that for the both of us." Bucky goes to fill his mug as the sound of a palm hitting the table top rings through the room.

"Damn it, why can't you take this seriously," Steve snaps. "He adopted the kid! He's supposed to be his _father_!"

Bucky nearly chokes on his coffee.

"And--and you welcomed him with open arms--brought him into our home. _Why_?"

Before Bucky can answer, he turns in time to see Steve's expression tighten, become concerned and slightly condescending, and Bucky's hackles rise.

"Bucky, babe," Steve says, a cross between placating and pleading.

"Don't," Bucky warns.

But Steve does. "You don't owe him anything--"

"It's not about the arm, Steve, fuck. I _know_ I don't owe him anything!"

"Then why, Buck?" His fiance's glare is cutting, back to angry disbelief.

Groaning, Bucky tilts his head back and covers his face with both hands.

"Why?" Steve asks again, quietly.

Bucky sighs, his hands dropping to his sides as he returns Steve's gaze. It's too early for this garbage, too early to deal with Steve's righteousness, it's just...too much.

"The kid's eighteen," he says flatly, "It's no one's business but theirs. I got a chance to help someone who needs it, and I did. You've always said I'm a good judge of character, and I trust Stark, okay? He's not hurting Peter."

_Not in any way he doesn't want_, Bucky thinks, and he tries to ignore the trickle of heat down his spine.

"Just drop it, Steve," he says and walks away.

***

Bucky sees Peter and Tony in passing throughout the next few days.

He wonders if they heard he and Steve arguing.

He wonders if they heard him outside their door that first night.

He knows this is messed up, that even though Tony made him an arm--gave Bucky his life back--Tony and Peter are strangers. Steve's his fiance and his childhood best friend; he should be backing Steve, being part of the team Steve tells him they are.

But Tony and Peter are...exciting, in a guilty way, in a fantasy way that Steve isn't. Every night, he lays in bed, not touching (not that Steve's reaching for him, either), and while his fiance snores quietly, Bucky thinks about sneaking back down the hall to the guest room door, but he doesn't.

He just spends the days living for the small moments of contact; Peter's quick smiles and small waves in passing, the occasional "Hey, Mr. Barnes" or "Hi, Bucky".

(the kid has quite the blush; it makes Bucky think too much about that first night, and he does his best not to react too much in those brief encounters beyond a casual "Hey, Pete," in case he gives some sign, lets them in on the secret he's trying to keep for himself.

And he keeps waiting for a 'thank you'. Feels guilty for expecting it, and then guiltier for being disappointed every time it doesn't come.)

Tony has to know. Bucky's almost sure. The billionaire doesn't say anything, doesn't ask for anything, but whenever he and Peter pass by he stares at Bucky a little longer than is casual, eyes shuttered and searching.

And Steve...Well, Steve hasn't been speaking to him, but Bucky can't find it in himself to care. The distance is...kind of a relief, if he's being honest with himself.

***

On the fourth morning, Bucky's had enough of the tension. He's up and showered by 7 a.m., standing outside the closed door of their only tenants, ready with an olive branch.

He's barely knocked when the door cracks open.

Peter smiles up at him, says "Morning." He looks sleep-warm, doe-eyed and soft, like he isn't quite awake, yet. He's lovely.

Bucky realizes he hasn't said anything back when Peter begins to look faintly amused.

"Hey, Pete," Bucky says, finally, smiling back. He feels like he might be blushing, which is completely ludicrous, since the kid's just standing there...in nothing but an over-sized Stark Industries t-shirt that brushes mid-thigh...

_Fuck_.

"...Did you need something?" Peter asks, and Bucky wonders if he might be projecting his own desires, because the words come out soft and promising, Peter's big brown eyes seeming to heat as Bucky watches, and suddenly he very much wants to know what Peter looks like when he--

Bucky clears his throat. "Yeah, actually; I was gonna go out to the beach today and figured I'd see if you and Tony wanna come?" _Word choice, Buck, Christ_. 

Peter's face lights up instantly, chasing away the sleep and whatever else Bucky thought he'd seen.

"What?! Yeah! Definitely!" he says, twisting around and bounding out of sight. "Tony, wake up!"

There's a squeak of springs as the kid presumably lands on the mattress, and Bucky has to resist the urge to peek around the still partially opened door. He hears a mumbled response, and then Peter's voice again.

"It _is_ important; Bucky wants to take us to the beach!"

A groan and more mumbling, and then Peter returns to the door, grinning.

"Tony's still waking up, but he said he's down! Let me get him in the shower and dressed and we can go!"

He disappears back into the room, leaving the door open a crack.

Feeling lighter than he has in days (maybe even months), Bucky goes down to wait on the porch.

*

It's late November, so there's a layer of fog over everything and the beach is empty; even in the spring and summer, the town's too small for excessive tourism, and during this time of year there's hardly a soul. Bucky loves it; it allows for peace in a way nowhere else does, and he feels good about bringing Peter and Tony out with him, hopes they find some of that peace for themselves.

(It also feels like a good start to making up for his...indiscretion.)

Everything's quiet, muffled by the fog; the waves and the cries of seagulls sound far away. They walk down the cement path that runs from the parking lot along the stretch of the beach, and Bucky's relieved that Peter's not put off by how not 'California' the beach is.

The group wanders far enough down that the parking lot is no longer visible, and Peter leaves the path to explore closer to the water. He picks through the rocks and wanders down to walk near the tide, about twenty feet down from the walkway, as Bucky and Tony continue a short ways.

The two men end up parked on a driftwood bench, hands in their pockets, relaxing to the hush of waves and the snatches of laughter and indistinct conversation from Peter, who's busy making friends with a local, and the local's dogs, that have wandered over from one of the nearby private beaches.

Bucky sneaks a glance at his companion.

There are plenty of photos of Tony Stark floating around, ranging from professional magazine covers to scandalous, blurry paparazzi shots. None of them compare to the man in the flesh.

The billionaire's reclining against the backrest of the bench, watching his lover, an affectionate half-smile on his face. The lines at the corners of his eyes are crinkled just a little, and the light smattering of grey through his dark hair and goatee make him look distinguished, masculine. He looks...lived in, comfortable in his skin. The arrogance of youth and genius spread throughout his media history has been tempered by life experience; he radiates the confidence of the busy but well-lived, and he wears it well.

Bucky allows his eyes to drift along the cut of Tony's jaw and then down his chest and stomach. The expensive wool jacket is open, and the dark red shirt Tony's got on is tight enough to hint at the musculature underneath. Bucky's seen it all, the olive-toned skin and soft muscle, wants to see it again.

He suddenly recalls Steve's angry comment --_he's supposed to be his father!_\-- and feels a hot, dirty rush. His eyes travel back up to the other man's face to find it angled towards him, a knowing smirk curving Tony's lips.

Bucky clears his throat and looks back out at the water.

A little distance away and to the side, Peter's standing, breathing hard from running around with the dogs and smiling while he talks to the dogs' owner about God knows what. Bucky can feel Tony's eyes on him, hot on the side of his face.

"Has Peter said anything to you the last couple days?" the billionaire asks.

Bucky swallows, looks over. "Like what?"

Tony smirks at him. He looks like he's about to say something, and then he breaks eye contact to look past Bucky. The amusement stays, but warmth floods in, and Bucky's pulse jumps.

Peter steps onto the path and drops onto the bench between them. He's grinning, color high on his cheeks, and Bucky's brain helpfully supplies the last time he'd seen Peter looking so flushed.

"Hey, Pete," Tony says, smiling.

The teen returns the greeting and starts leaning toward his boyfriend, and then stops abruptly, starts to sit back.

"You can kiss him in front of me," Bucky blurts. _Jesus_.

He genuinely means it as a reassurance; he wants them to feel comfortable behaving like a couple. Bucky's seen the strain between them in the house the past few days, the way they avoid unnecessary contact outside their room, especially if Steve's nearby. But he knows how it sounds, and Tony suddenly looks a lot more amused where Bucky can see him just past Peter's shoulder.

"I mean you're allowed to be cute with each other, that's all," Bucky says, kicking himself internally while giving Peter what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

And Peter...Peter's looking at him kind of like he wants to crawl into Bucky's lap.

"Thank you, Bucky," he says warmly and purposefully, and when a little more color blooms under the kid's skin, Bucky feels heat rise under his own.

When Peter doesn't immediately turn to kiss Tony, Bucky feels the insane urge to lean in himself--and then Tony's hand comes up to cup Peter's chin and turn the boy's face to his.

"That was nice of you," he hears Tony murmur.

Bucky's expecting something filthy to happen next to him at this point, and he's not sure how he's going to handle it. But the kiss is quick, and then Peter's sitting upright and talking about the person he just met and the dogs he just played with, and Bucky feels a little like he's going crazy.

**

They don't stay at the beach for long; the wind starts picking up and the clouds are beginning to look darker, like they might spill soon.

On the drive back, Peter leans up between the front seats so he can alternate between resting his chin on Tony's shoulder, fiddling with the radio, and eventually--after shyly asking Bucky to take off his jacket--inspecting Bucky's prosthetic again. The 'inspection' this time around is mostly Peter tracing fingertips along the fine lines of the plating, and Bucky tries very hard not to react too obviously.

By the time they get back to the house, Bucky's rock hard in his jeans, and even though he's pretty sure he manages to get out and get his jacket on and zipped without anyone seeing it, the too-innocent look on Peter's face makes Bucky think he's underestimated Peter Parker a little.

"I'm gonna run upstairs real quick," Bucky says as soon as they're inside. "Coffee pot's over there; figure I don't need to give the geniuses any instructions. I'll be right back down."

"You're not gonna hang your coat?" Peter asks, gazing up at him guilelessly.

The expression cracks when Tony walks behind the kid, and judging by Tony's smirk and the sudden blushy indignation and tiny smile on Peter's part, Bucky's willing to bet he just pinched the kid's ass.

Bucky makes his escape up the stairs, trying to move like he doesn't have an erection, a semi-hysterical laugh bubbling behind his ribs.

"Ugh, _Tony_\--Bucky! Wait! Do you have any hot chocola--Oh, hi, Steve..."

_Shit_. Bucky nearly runs right back down the stairs, wants to put a physical barrier between Peter and his fiance, but he knows better than that. Instead, he scowls down the hallway and keeps going towards his room.

*

He's hanging his jacket in the bedroom closet when the door creaks open.

"Buck?"

Bucky takes a deep breath.

"Yeah, Stevie?" He pulls a thick sweater on over his t-shirt and turns around.

"Where'd you guys go?"

Steve's standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, trying too hard to be casual. The thin veneer is obvious as hell, and Bucky really doesn't want to have this argument.

"The beach," Bucky says shortly. "I figured they might wanna see more than the inside of our house for the next month."

"You didn't wake me up."

Bucky holds back a sigh, moves to the bed and starts straightening the pillows.

"You never wanna go to the beach. And I didn't think you'd be into hangin' out with Stark." _And I didn't want you to go_.

"I'm into hanging out with you," Steve says, the words ringing hollow, and Bucky almost laughs as old, faded pain echos deep in the back of his mind. Pulling the blankets into place, he runs his hands across the fabric to flatten the wrinkles and straightens to face Steve.

"Stevie, don't--I get why you're angry about Tony, but don't act like--"

"So it's 'Tony', now--"

"_Don't_ act like you've been tryin' so hard to make time for me, because it's been _months_, Steve," he says, "Since the arm. Since _before_ the arm." He feels sick from adrenaline, and Steve's looking at him like he can't believe Bucky would say something like that, and Bucky just can't be in this room anymore.

"I'm gonna make breakfast. Just--just don't do this shit in front of company," he says tightly, giving Steve a wide berth as he goes to leave the room.

He's just turned the corner from the stairway when Steve comes thundering down after.

"I'm going to the library," Steve says as he yanks open the front door, "so I don't 'do this shit in front of company'."

Peter comes out of the kitchen archway and freezes, a mug in his hand, and Steve whirls on him.

"Have fun with my fiance," he snaps, "since apparently your own _father_ isn't enough."

"_Steve_\--" Bucky snarls, but the door slams shut. He starts to follow.

"Bucky, don't! Just--let him go," Peter says, his voice strained.

Bucky turns, and Tony's standing behind Peter, now, his mouth drawn tight in a thin line, and noticeably not touching the younger at all. Peter looks drawn, shaky, hands gripping his mug like a lifeline.

Pressing his palms into his eyes so hard he sees patterns and colors behind his lids, Bucky curses thickly. He drops his hands, and there's a stilted silence that just drags.

After a while, Bucky exhales and rubs at his mouth. He knows the smile he gives Peter is strained, but he's trying.

"You wanna help make breakfast?" When Peter nods, a little of the weight comes off Bucky's chest.

"Okay...Okay. Fuckin'--" Bucky waves his hand in a vague gesture at Peter, "--hug your damn boyfriend, Tony," he says to the billionaire, "He's shakin' like a leaf. Kid's gonna be droppin' eggs all over the place."

It's nonsense, and he feels his face heat a little bit, but as he skirts around them to go into the kitchen, he's relieved to see Tony gather Peter tightly to him and press a long kiss to the kid's hair. Peter buries his face in the crook of Tony's neck.

Bucky doesn't stick around to watch any longer, goes into the kitchen to start pulling out what he needs to make french toast and bacon and eggs, and then he has to stop and grip the counter, because _his_ hands are shaking.

When a palm lands on his shoulder, he jumps a little. He'd missed the approaching footsteps.

The hand stays, squeezes gently for a moment, and slides off.

"I'm not great at cooking, but I'm great at paying other people to do it for me," Tony says.

Bucky snorts. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let's do the small town thing. There's got to be a diner around here that serves more grease than food."

Tony's smirking at him, and Bucky huffs a laugh and lets go of the counter.

"Yeah, alright."


	3. The Bitter Pill I Swallow

The Crescent is the least busy diner in town, a simple breakfast place in coastal decor--lots of soft grays and blues, sun-bleached wood and thick twine rope accents, warm maroon cushions on the seats and lining the benches of the booths. The food's greasy, the coffee's good. The patrons are usually older and keep to themselves, and Bucky's glad that proves true this morning.

It's self-seating, so they pick the furthest back corner booth. The walls are more window than anything, but their booth is on the opposite side of the building from the main road, and the public beach they're facing is a section that isn't busy even during the summer; the cottony-gray sky and emergence of gentle rain of the season practically guarantee privacy.

Bucky doesn't bother to pick up his menu. He just sips at his coffee and watches Peter and Tony peruse the items together while drinking their own coffee and cocoa respectively.

He grins as Peter just aims for 'sugar' ("Waffles _are_ breakfast--" "That waffle has a _sundae_ on it."). It's endearingly domestic and intimate in a way that seems almost alien to Bucky, and something twists unpleasantly in his chest. 

~*~

_"Come on Buck, it's early; come back to bed."_

_Steve's watching him from the pillows, but Bucky doesn't pause shrugging on his coat._

_"I'm just gonna go out for a while," he says as he zips up to his neck. _

_For a moment, there's only the patter of raindrops on the bedroom window._

_"...We could try again?" _

_The obvious hesitance burns, and Bucky becomes sickeningly aware of his tied-up left sleeve. He struggles to keep from reaching up to touch what's left of his arm._

_"Nah, it's--It's okay. I'm just gonna go get something to eat," he says. Doesn't look at the bed._

_"Okay, babe, I'm sorry," Steve says, already winding back down towards sleep. "Bring me back something?"_

_"...Yeah, Stevie. I got you."_

~*~

Bucky's right hand twitches, an old impulse to reach up and massage at a scarred stump that's no longer there.

That was the morning he'd first come in to The Crescent, and something he hasn't thought about too much recently, just another unfortunate reality of his situation. 

"Are you alright?" Tony's voice is solid. Concerned. Safe.

Bucky hadn't noticed that the conversation across from him had stopped. 

_My fiance could barely look at me when we_\--

"Nah, I'm good, I was just--Steve's not a big fan of the arm," Bucky hears himself say. "Never was. Before the prosthetic, or after."

He's never mentioned any of this to another person, didn't really mean to, now, and with the way Tony and Peter tense up, Bucky feels a little like he dropped a dead animal on the table. Suddenly nervous, he actually does reach up and rub at his left shoulder, the joint unnaturally solid through his shirt and sweater.

"I just mean--I'm sorry you have to deal with Steve," he says quickly. "He already had problems with Stark Industries, and then with your press conference...I knew how he felt about...you."

"It's kind of how everyone feels about it," Peter says.

When Bucky looks at him, Peter's giving him a wry smile, but his eyes are concerned, and they dart to where Bucky's hand is still rubbing at his prosthetic shoulder. Bucky drops his hand back to his coffee mug self-consciously.

Tony clears his throat. "When you say 'not a fan' before the prosthetic...?" There's a tightness to Tony's voice that wasn't there before, something knowing. Forcing back both the lingering memory and the kernel of shame in his chest, Bucky shrugs.

"Not everyone digs scars," he says, giving what he hopes is a convincingly blase smile. He picks up his mug, takes a long drink. "But that's mine to deal with. I just wanted you to know I'm sorry about this mornin'."

Tony's staring at him now, expression unreadable, but intense.

"Tony," Peter says suddenly, "move."

For a second, when the billionaire smoothly slides and rises out of the booth and Peter scoots out after him, Bucky's sure they're just going to leave.

And then Peter slides into Bucky's side, on his left. He's not so close they're touching, but the intention is clear, and Bucky suddenly can't breathe.

Tony just sits back down and arches a brow at his boyfriend. Peter smiles serenely, a faint rosy stain appearing across his cheeks, and grabs his abandoned mug from across the table before pulling Bucky's unopened menu towards himself.

"Okay, so I'm thinking the Lazy Sundae--"

"_Kid_\--"

Bucky's chest is a big, warm mess inside as he settles back to listen and watch as Peter wheedles his way into ordering the sundae-waffle.

And then, later, two more mugs of cocoa with extra whip, and a slice of pie.

*

When the rain slows and then stops (and Peter's practically in a sugar coma), they leave the diner.

It's almost two o'clock, but Bucky could've spent the rest of the day there making idle, easy conversation, Peter sitting beside him, and Tony's gaze warm and heavy over the both of them. He's grateful, as it is, for the long ride back home. Isn't ready to give up the familiar unfamiliarity; the comfort, or the source.

Peter leans up between the front seats again, but this time, he doesn't ask Bucky to take off his jacket. He just fiddles with the left sleeve, up near the shoulder, while he talks to Tony or hums and mumbles along to the radio.

The fiddling turns into light, distracted poking, and then the touches start to linger, form meaningless shapes.

"Is this okay?" Peter asks eventually, soft and curious. Bucky has to focus on breathing normally.

"Yeah, it's--it's okay." _Don't stop_

Points of pressure drag lazy and almost affectionate over Bucky's fake shoulder, and Bucky is suddenly, immensely grateful. A beautiful, eighteen-year-old genius is paying sweet attention to the part of him that's been unloved for so long, and Bucky's blessed with a prosthetic that _feels_.

He wants to take off his jacket and see if Peter will keep touching him.

He keeps the jacket on.

*

It's nearly six-thirty when Steve comes home.

Bucky's on the couch in the living room, folding laundry. Tony and Peter are upstairs (Bucky's been trying not to think too much about that), and he suddenly wishes they were down here with him.

When his fiance's footsteps pad into the room, Bucky stiffens, but keeps his eyes fixed on the towel in his hands.

"...Hey," Steve says.

"Hey." Bucky finishes the towel, picks up another.

After a brief silence, Steve clears his throat.

"You gonna look at me?"

"You gonna apologize to Peter?" It's the wrong thing to say to _Steve_, but it's the right thing to say. Bucky can still see the stricken look on Peter's face, and the heart-wrenching sight of Tony holding himself back from physically comforting his own clearly-upset boyfriend.

"Really, Buck," Steve snaps, "that's the _first_\--Are _you_ going to apologize?"

Bucky resists the urge to chuck a towel at him.

"I'm sorry about talkin' to you like that," he says stiffly, "I coulda handled it better."

"Thanks," Steve says sarcastically, "that was real heartfelt--"

"But what you said was shitty, and you know it." The words are calm, but hard. He pulls a bed sheet out of the basket, stands and steps forward to fold it without looking at his fiance.

Behind him, Steve sighs. "I'm sorry I accused you of sleeping with Peter--"

"That's not what--" Bucky starts, frustrated.

"--and I want to make it up to you."

Arms slide around Bucky's middle, and then a warm body is pressing up all along his back as Steve splays a hand over his sternum. Bucky's chest goes tight and uncomfortable.

"How about we go upstairs so I can start?" Steve says low in Bucky's ear, before kissing his right shoulder.

Bucky thinks of that morning, how thoroughly and carefully Peter's fingers had traced the almost invisible seams of his left.

_Is this okay?_

"I'm in the middle of somethin'," Bucky says tightly. He uses the prosthetic to gently pull Steve's hand away from his chest. When Steve flinches at the contact and drops his arms, the relief isn't quite enough to cancel out the dull throb of pain. The silence after is awkward.

"Bucky--"

Bucky snaps the sheet into the air, folding it in on itself smaller and smaller, drops it on the finished stack. "I'm busy." 

The air suddenly feels tense, and he knows what Steve's about to ask. 

"Are you sleeping with him? With either of them?"

"No, I'm not," Bucky says with forced calm.

"Then come on, Bucky, babe," Steve says, resting his hands on Bucky's hips. "It's been so long, and I miss you..."

Bucky shivers involuntarily when lips ghost over the nape of his neck. His stomach sinks as a hand slides from his hip to the front of his sweats.

"Let me make this better, Buck, please," Steve murmurs.

Bucky shuts his eyes.

"Yeah. Okay, Stevie."

*

Bucky lets him.

It doesn't make it better.

They do it right there in the living room, Bucky bent over the armrest, sweats pushed down to mid-thigh. Steve fingers him open with a packet of lube from his bag, rolls on a condom and fucks into him from behind.

He runs his hands over Bucky's ribs, plays with his nipples, drags nails down his stomach. He strokes and squeezes Bucky's hips as he thrusts, presses kisses and bites into his neck and shoulder, jerks him until he cums down the side of the couch.

After Steve cums, he presses a breathless kiss against the back of Bucky's neck before he pulls out.

"I love you, Buck."

"You too, Stevie."

As Steve's footsteps disappear upstairs, Bucky pulls up his sweats and sinks bonelessly onto the couch. He closes his eyes and leans forward, elbows to his knees, covers his face with both hands.

Steve'd put his hands everywhere, except his left arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, that last scene though.


	4. The Scars Souvenir

There's a sound, and Bucky looks up. It's been a little while since Steve went upstairs, and he's really hoping it's not him back in the living room.

It's not.

Tony's standing in the arch between the entry way and the living room, frozen, face blank. From that angle, Bucky knows the wet streaks are visible on the couch's upholstery, and it definitely isn't something he wanted Tony to see.

"Hey, Stark." Bucky sniffs quickly and straightens up, smiles awkwardly. "Sorry if we--if I woke you guys or somethin'."

"It's not even eight," Tony says flatly.

It's still early. He sort of forgot.

"Right." Bucky pats his thighs once and stands up. "Well, I've got some stuff to clean up out here, so, if there's nothin' you need--"

"What do _you_ need, James?" Tony asks.

Bucky starts to play it off, but his retort dies on his lips.

Tony Stark isn't large in stature, and since the inventor's been in Harvest Moon, he's been carrying himself like...well, like a guy on a quiet vacation, instead of the namesake of one of the largest companies in the world. And while he's clearly a dominant personality, it's kind of easy to forget what that last name means.

Right now, 'vacation/bedroom-eyes/'man-can't-live-on-sugar-alone-Peter' Tony isn't in the room. Tony Stark, a very rich, very powerful man of genius-level intelligence, is standing in the archway, and he is very obviously not happy. And that question--_what do you need?_\--suddenly seems a lot bigger, and a lot more delicate.

"Noth--"

"Don't say 'nothing'," Tony interrupts smoothly, "I'm not accepting 'nothing' as an answer at the moment. Tell me." His expression flickers. "Please."

Maybe it's the plea, maybe it's the man himself--maybe it's a lot of things--but Bucky lets himself bend.

"I--Uh--I need you to look at the arm," he says. He'd been aiming for nonchalant, missed by a mile and landed in quiet and a little shaky. Tony's across the room immediately, a cascade of sweet--but mostly dangerous--emotions sweeping over the billionaire's features. He wordlessly gestures for Bucky to scoot down the cushions to the end closest to the lamp, goes to pull off the shade.

"No," Bucky says quickly, "Leave the shade. Just--Never mind. The arm's fine, I didn't mean to scare you."

Tony's expression softens a fraction in understanding. "Alright. Scoot."

Bucky shifts to the right and Tony sinks onto the cushion next to him, angling towards Bucky until their knees are almost brushing. The genius inhales deeply, like he's steadying himself.

"Tell me if I make you uncomfortable."

"You won't."

"Tell me if I do," Tony says firmly, staring until Bucky nods.

"Yeah. I--I'll tell you."

"Good." After staring at Bucky for another moment, Tony reaches up to rest his hand on the prosthetic shoulder, the heat of his palm leaching through the fabric of the t-shirt almost immediately.

Bucky watches Tony's face, but the man's eyes are on his, not on the arm, and Bucky swallows. He hesitates, and then carefully moves his prosthetic hand to Tony's knee; keeps it there. For less than a second, he's expecting a flinch, even from the fuckin' miracle-worker who made the damn thing, and he chastises himself for the fear.

Tony looks openly pained, suddenly, eyes switching rapidly between Bucky's, searching. Parts his lips for a moment like he's going to speak; closes them. Then he breaks eye contact to gaze at the arm as he slips his fingers under the edge of the sleeve.

The calloused hand flattens, contours to the metal as it pushes the fabric up and over the round of Bucky's shoulder in a smooth, slow glide. Bucky's breath catches.

The genius glances at Bucky's face again, before returning his full attention to the arm. He trails his hand smoothly down along the structure, curling his fingers around the inner bicep, stroking slowly all the way down.

Bucky twists the prosthetic, releasing Tony's knee to place the hand palm-up as the older man smooths his hand down to wrap loosely around Bucky's wrist, palm resting on the place that would've been pulsing with Bucky's speeding heartbeat, if it'd been flesh.

It feels incredible. The touch, and the soft, proud look that takes over the engineer's face as he gazes at his creation.

"Pepper told me you vetoed the synth-skin," Tony says quietly, "Said she made sure to double-check that you weren't under the mistaken impression that you'd be charged for it. But no. You just. Wanted it the way it is."

The words are almost wondering, and Bucky looks down at the brushed metal of the hand. 

He'd been overjoyed--in tears--the first time he curled those fingers in toward that palm with as much effort as it took to close his flesh hand. When Ms. Potts had offered the synthetic coating, Bucky had shot it down immediately; how could he hide the arm like that, pretend it was anything less than a marvel, than a miracle?

"It's beautiful," Bucky says. "You don't hide the things you love."

"No. No you don't." Tony smiles small, and swallows. He lets go of the wrist to place his hand back solidly on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing once, long. He looks into Bucky's eyes again. 

"I mean it. If you need something--anything." He raises his brows slightly, nods once, not breaking eye contact. "You'll have it."

In spite of everything about this fucked up heart-to-heart and the things that came before it, Bucky feels a brief spike of arousal at the words, at the inherent and very real power in the statement. Tony Stark is undoubtedly a man that can deliver.

He pushes it aside. "Thanks, Stark."

"'Tony', please."

"...Thank you, Tony."

*

The next morning goes absolutely nothing like Bucky expects.

"It just came up, everything's been confirmed--really big client--"

Bucky tunes out the words, watches Steve drag two suitcases through the open front door down to his car and then jog back up, a breathless smile on his face.

Something about it rings strangely, but at this point Bucky's still trying to process what's happening; he's only been awake for like ten minutes.

"I have to go; I'll see you Wednesday, okay?" Steve says, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on Bucky's cheek. And then he's back down the stairs, in the car, and backing down the drive.

Wednesday. As in a week from now.

Bucky closes the front door softly, and turns to face the rest of the house.

One week.

One week without Steve.

One week without Steve, with Tony and Peter.

"What the fuck just happened?" he mutters to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Let's just...*gently pushes Steve out of the way*
> 
> Thanks again to those of you reading for the first time, and to everyone who inspired me to repost the fic after I took it down. <3


	5. There's Never Air to Breathe

Bucky leaves the couple a fresh pot of coffee, breakfast in warmers, and a note, and goes to the beach.

*

He and Steve had only come to the beach a couple times, in the beginning. Cute-ish dates, when Steve was still invested in showing Bucky a good time. But Steve's interest in the pebbly beach waned early on, while Bucky fell in love.

Before the accident, Bucky Barnes hadn't been a nature guy. Born and raised in the city, he grew up and worked and lived among skyscrapers and foot traffic and endless noise, alongside abrasive people living abrasive lifestyles. He'd never imagined anything else but what was already laid out for him: just another member of the Barnes clan of New York; construction until he was too old, work in the diner until his passing. Generations and generations and generations. His parents had been tolerant of his sexuality, thank God, but that tolerance had hinged on his adherence to those traditions, and for a long time, it was all Bucky'd expected to be.

And then he'd lost his arm, along with his faith in that vision of his future.

The first few months after they'd arrived at the little two-story, Steve had done everything he thought he should to get Bucky out of his new shell. Took him out to see the town. Took him to the beach. Stayed up late and spent time just being together. The sex hadn't gone so well, but Bucky had hated the stump almost as much as Steve did for a long time, so he hadn't blamed him at first.

But after Steve got tired of trying, the AirBnB project started. Bucky regained purpose and started wanting again, and he'd started noticing the things that weren't making him happy. And a lot of them were...well, at least related to his relationship, and Steve.

Those things are why the staff down at The Crescent know him by name. And those things are why he loves this ugly, pebbly beach so goddamn much.

He's discovered real peace, here; something that he'd never really had or understood in New York (even if he hadn't known it at the time). Developed an appreciation for silence, and for ambient noise. For the varying shades of the sky and the water and stones on the ground.

It became less of an escape, and more of a grounding place, a charging station. Bucky desperately needed it after last night and this morning.

So he's here, has been for maybe the last hour and a half, bundled up and planted on the same bench he'd sat with Tony and Peter just yesterday, watching thin white caps foam and melt on the waves.

It's nice, being alone, even if he does kind of wish--

Glancing back down the path, he startles.

Oh.

He watches the familiar figures get closer, his heart speeding.

"Hey, Terminator," Tony calls when they're within earshot, as Peter waves. _They came looking for him_.

Bucky smirks and waves with the prosthetic, his heart swelling behind his ribs.

"You could make me a red bionic eye, too; get the full look goin'," he says when they reach the bench. Tony flops down beside him, Peter beside Tony. They're both bundled up, wool coats and jeans and scarves, boots; ready to sit out here for a while, it looks like.

"I could," Tony says, "but you have two functioning eyes--"

"Quick, Pete, poke me in the eye for science," Bucky jokes.

"Well, if it's for science," Peter says, grinning past Tony.

"Actually, you'd have to 'entirely remove his eye for science', and we're not doing that."

"...I have a melon-baller at home," Bucky suggests casually, arching his brows at Tony.

Tony wrinkles his nose at him while Peter snickers. Bucky grins.

It's completely ridiculous, but it's...good. Nice. He knows they're going to get down to the real conversation soon--because of course they are, because the couple actually seem to give a shit about him--but Bucky appreciates the novelty of the easy, stupid banter.

"Don't look at me like that, Stark," he says, still smiling, "it just means I trust you enough to make an eye so good I'd let someone scoop out my real one. It's a compliment."

"It'd be perfect," Tony says, without a trace of ego, "But your real ones are gorgeous."

The blatant compliment is unexpected, and Bucky looks away, out at the water. Clears his throat. Feels his face heat.

He used to know how to take a compliment, how to volley them back and forth until he ended up in a tangle of sheets and sweat and bare skin. But he hasn't been that guy in a while. At least Tony doesn't seem to mind.

"We got the note," Tony says suddenly, "And we have two proposals for you."

Bucky's chest tightens.

"Well, jeez, Tony, just jump into it, why don't you," Peter admonishes from Tony's other side, casting a fondly exasperated look at the older man.

"Segues are unnecessary. Now," Tony claps his hands together once, "Two proposals. First: if you want, I can give you the actual location of your fiance."

The fact that, apparently, Tony doesn't already know, confirms things for Bucky, even without specifics. The smile on Steve's face had been much too excited for 'an important client', and Bucky had been tired and in denial earlier, but he isn't stupid. The air outside suddenly feels a little colder, and he feels the urge to scoot toward's Tony's warmth. He doesn't.

"...I don't think that'll be necessary. I don't need details."

His smile feels strained, and Tony dials back, his energy shifting from businesslike and into that warm, reassuring presence Bucky had felt last night, when the inventor had touched his arm.

"Okay. Then proposal number two." Tony gazes at him. "Let us take care of you for a little while. In whatever capacity you're comfortable."

At this point, Peter's leaning forward and partially over Tony's lap, so Bucky can see the sincere concern and want on both of their faces, and he feels a little like he's dreaming. There's no way Tony's--no way they're offering what Bucky thinks.

"I'm sorry; I _am_ gonna need details for that one," he says carefully, trying to tamp down on the hot thread of erotic curiosity winding through his head.

Tony quirks a smile. "Negotiation is important."

*

*

*

They stay at the beach just a little longer, but they'd mutually decided the second proposal won't be brought up again until they get back to the house.

Bucky spends the whole ride back alone in his truck, thinking it over. Their faces--not only concerned for him, but anticipating, something like hope, something like yearning. Mostly on Peter's face; the younger hasn't yet built up the emotional mask that Tony's capable of. Bucky honestly kind of hopes it never develops; Peter's such a passionate person.

He wonders if Tony feels the same way; it seems like he might. It's just another reason Bucky trusts Tony, or really thinks he could; the inventor treats Peter like gold. Intelligent, self-possessed gold. The kid absolutely radiates the comfort and confidence of being loved securely, and that's not something that can be faked, in Bucky's experience.

By the time he pulls into the driveway, Bucky already knows his answer, but he's buzzing with the need to hear exactly what it is they want from him. What they want to do with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I left off last time, yo.  
I've got chapter six almost done, I'll be posting it real soon <3


	6. The Deeper That I Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After deleting and then re-posting the entire fic, here's the next chapter!  
I hope those of you that were following before it was deleted find your way back <3  
Thank you for your support!
> 
> This chapter is titled from House of Memories instead of Impossible Year. Make what you will of that lol.

Bucky's standing in front of his closet, staring at the hanging clothes, and maybe kind of panicking. The offer, the way Tony and Peter had looked at him, had been exhilarating; but now he's home, in his and Steve's room, and wondering what the hell he's doing.

_Cool it, Buck; they're not gonna jump you as soon as you get downstairs_.

He's thinking too much, he knows that. But he's got last night in his head, and the idea of doing anything sexual at the moment feels like it could be incredibly cathartic, or completely terrible.

Tony wouldn't make him feel like last night, but...what if he did? He doesn't actually know Tony Stark. What if Bucky's wrong about him, and the inventor's just been waiting until Bucky lets him in, and he becomes cold or forceful or uncaring?

There's a soft knock from the doorway, and it jolts Bucky from his thoughts.

"Are you alright?"

He turns, and Tony's leaning against the doorjamb, just watching him. Loose posture. Calm. Bucky sticks on a smile.

"Hey. Yeah, I'm good. I'll be down in a second."

"Nervous?" Tony asks, as Bucky turns back to the closet.

"Sore," Bucky replies without thinking. _Jesus_. Flushing slightly, he fiddles with a few shirts, like he's actually trying to pick something else to wear.

It's true; not 'injured' pain, but more sore than if he'd been relaxed, during. He's not feeling overtly emotional about it, feels sort of distant from the violation. It probably means he's cramming something down, but Bucky's sure that even if he were to pull it all out, it'd be more of a deep splinter than a knife. The idea of being comforted, though, almost feels more intimate (intimidating) than a blatant sexual invitation.

After a moment of heavy quiet, Tony speaks.

"It doesn't have to be anything you don't want. It's whatever you need," he says. "There's only one thing you're required to agree to if you want to do this."

Bucky turns, stomach knotting up. "What's that?"

Tony pushes off the jamb and walks into the room, coming to stop a few feet away.

"You'll need to be honest about your limits," he says. "When you're reaching them, when you're close to reaching them. If you think you might be uncomfortable with something, you need to tell us. That's non-negotiable." He arches his brows at Bucky expectantly.

For a moment, Bucky holds up the 'I'm fine' attitude, but it doesn't last long under that knowing look, and he deflates.

"I trust you. I'm still a little off, though, after last night."

Tony's eyes flash dangerously for a moment, jaw going tight, an echo of the anger Bucky'd seen before. The billionaire's holding himself back, and the consideration's nice, but for a lightning-flash moment, Bucky wants to see Tony from the night before: a pissed off corporate god, all power and control.

_What do you need?_

He suppresses a shiver, but it must still come through, because Tony's expression shifts to one of consideration.

"How do you feel about being rimmed?" the billionaire asks casually.

Bucky nearly chokes on his own spit.

*

Five minutes later, he's in the shower, cleaning himself as meticulously as possible, everywhere.

Because Tony Stark wants to eat him out.

It won't happen until later, maybe not even until that night; Tony had been insistent that they spend some time together first, all three of them, before they take it anywhere. But Bucky's not really sure he'll be able to just relax and lay around with them when he knows what's waiting for him at some kind of indeterminate moment in the near future.

He can't stop thinking about it. About Tony laying him back or getting him on his knees--probably on his knees, that sounds good--spreading him open and leaning in--

Bucky has to stop, now, because he's about to get carried away, and Tony had forbid him from getting off prior. He lets out a semi-hysterical laughing groan under the shower spray; thinking about the order sends a counterproductive throb of arousal through his lower body. Bucky hadn't known someone could forbid something so fucking nicely, but Tony certainly had, and it's doing things for him.

He's not entirely new to the idea of power exchange, but he's never really been into it; most of his previous partners had expected Bucky to be the one in charge based on his build and his open flirtatiousness, so his desire to be dominated had never really been satisfied. Steve had been--

Bucky pushes the thought away. _We're not going there, Barnes. Not anymore_. Not when he's got Tony fucking Stark and Peter Parker waiting for him downstairs.

*

When he comes down maybe fifteen minutes later, Tony and Peter are on the couch, Netflix pulled up on the TV. They both look over when he steps through the arch.

He freezes for a moment, his eyes shooting to the side of the couch. He'd done a good job scrubbing the upholstery before he'd passed out last night, so there's nothing but a faint patch where the cleaner's almost done drying.

Peter grins up at him from the center cushion.

"Want to watch something super terrible?" he asks, as Tony's dark eyes gaze warmly from the teen's other side.

Bucky snorts, smiles back. "I could go for that."

Stepping forward, he lowers himself to the last open seat a little gingerly, and Peter starts flipping through the cult horror section, bickering with Tony about what to pick.

It's nice, another warm, domestic moment they're letting him be a part of, even if he's mostly a silent observer. Comforting, the way they go back and forth, Peter arguing the merits of movies Bucky's never heard of to Tony, who's obviously arguing back purely for personal entertainment.

*

Maybe a half hour later, they're all settled--Tony in the corner closest to the lamp, one arm thrown across the backrest; Peter in the center, pressed up against the billionaire's side; and Bucky, in the remaining space on the side opposite Tony--and Bucky has no idea what's been happening on-screen.

Peter's been touching the prosthetic non-stop since the movie started. Drawing aimless swirling patterns on the inside of the forearm, looping down towards the base of the palm before dancing back up. The couch, despite being a three-seater, is barely large enough for the trio, so Bucky's hyper aware of Peter's body heat along his side, almost pressed against Bucky's thigh, and the combination of the touch and that hint at heat is bordering on intoxicating.

Distantly, Bucky marvels at the varying levels of sensation; it really is a miracle, absolutely incredible that he can distinctly feel the way Peter's fingertips skim up to his inner elbow, the way they leave a tingling trail back down to what would've been the delicate skin and tendons of his inner wrist. He feels it the way he would his flesh arm, with such minimal difference that if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was the limb he'd been born with.

But he doesn't close his eyes. Neither of the people sitting on his couch make him want to pretend.

And, if he'd closed them, he would've missed the flushed glance the eighteen-year-old shoots up at him.

He wonders if Peter knows about Tony's command--wonders until what started as a shy glance turns absolutely filthy and teasing for just a flash.

Bucky barely holds back his sharp inhale. This kid's gonna kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooooo what happens next who knooooooowwwwsss


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